


The Allaying Anchor

by Atlanova



Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: Accidental Spooning, Anxiety, Boats, Bonding, Claustrophobia, Developing Friendships, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Panic Attacks, Phobias, Some minor star gazing, Stranded at sea, Trigger Warning for Panic Attacks, Trust, falling asleep, spoilers for 10x08 in notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:08:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29568687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atlanova/pseuds/Atlanova
Summary: Neville sighs a smile as he looks out to the sea. It's all around them and at first it had terrified him, the prospect of being stranded out here.Nevertheless, if he is anywhere but inside the small boat that had seemed to enclose and terrify him even more, he will be nothing but reassured.And if he is anywhere with Florence, he is at peace.________________________When Neville and Florence return to a crime scene -- a small cabin cruiser -- it becomes detached from the shore. The pair are stranded at sea, which results in panic for Neville.
Relationships: Florence Cassell/Neville Parker
Comments: 5
Kudos: 32





	The Allaying Anchor

**Author's Note:**

> Heya! Back with more Floreville! I freaked out after that goddamn cliffhanger _and_ due to realizing that we have to wait another year to find out what Neville actually said
> 
> So I wrote this, very sleep-deprived and ... still freaking out 
> 
> [Trigger warning for panic attacks & mentions of claustrophobia]
> 
> Hope it's okay!

It's a pristine sight in the warm early evening sun. The palm trees guarding the beach shore reflect in the blacked-out windows, and railings are a pleasing shining silver that easily resembles the peaceful waves of the water. It floats gently and obediently in the turquoise waves, the blue rim occasionally dipping below the surface. 

The evening is like any other on the island, though is humid in the depths of spring. It's why Neville had adjusted his collar several times and sighed deeply he glances up at the sky as if that will do anything. 

"Sir, really," Florence exclaims, turning around to the sweltering detective and pointing at his alabaster trousers, "where are your shorts?"

Neville looks surprised for a moment until he stutters, looks at his trousers, and then frowns. "I've told you, Florence. I won't wear shorts to work."

The DS only rolls her eyes and goes back to leafing through a stack of papers on the table. The pair, despite that they are now out of working hours, have returned to the crime scene of their current case -- a cabin cruiser named _The Allaying Anchor_ \-- they'd been racking their heads for two days, trying to figure out the perpetrator of the murder, but had come up with nothing. Neville had finally thrown his hands down on the desk and commenced that he was going back to the scene to see if he had missed anything. Marlon had a family thing, and JP had to get home for the twins.

Florence had nothing on. Well, she probably would have ended up spending the evening with Neville anyway, and working is as good an evening as any. Besides, she loves her work just as much as Neville does, so the opportunity of overtime wasn't displeasing to to either of them.

"Sir," Florence says, breaking the concentrated silence between them and holding up a piece of paper, "I've found Harvey Charlton's bank details."

But when Florence actually turns to look at Neville, he is standing scratching at his neck, looking very agitated. She stands with a hand on her hip and waves the paper at him. 

"Sir, are you alright?"

Neville jumps a little and then shakes his head, promptly removing his hand from the back of his neck. "Hmm? Oh, yeah, Florence, I'm fine. Uh - good find, the bank details."

He reaches for the paper, politely gesturing for her to pass it to him. But Florence looks unimpressed. She simply swats his hand away, places the paper back down where she had found it, and walks over to her colleague and good friend. 

The detective knows what she is doing and waves a hand at her in protest, mumbling things about his neck being fine, but Florence gently hits his hand away.

Florence stands behind him and lifts her hands to the back of his neck. She feels him tense as she pulls the collar of his shirt down a little to reveal a red rash there. Her eyes narrow in concern as she presses the back of her hand to the heated skin, humming softly at the look of soreness.

Neville involuntarily closes his eyes at the sensation of her fingers on the back of his neck. They're soft, cool and, honestly, a relief to the burning of his skin. But he can't take much more of it and squirms, before turning around to her slightly surprised expression. 

"Sir?" she exclaims in confusion. "What are you doing?"

"I - uh -" he swallows and does his best to slow his heart rate and ignore the weakness of his legs. "It's nothing."

Florence clocks the way his eyes dart everywhere but her, the way he swallows. She knows he is hiding something important from her, but decides to start easy on him. "Sir, you have just about every rash and bite cream going in your rucksack. Why aren't you concerned about whatever it is that's irritating your neck?"

"Aright, Florence. Alright," Neville sighs. He knows that her determination and excellent ability to decipher when he is lying will eventually burn out any excuse or lie lingering on the edge of his tongue. So he rolls his sleeves up, still feeling the heat, and sits down. He stares at the floor for a moment and locks his hands together, before glancing up to see nothing but concern on Florence's expression. "I ... have an issue with claustrophobia."

Florence's eyes widen at this as she sits beside him. "But your neck ... " she trails off, enquiry quirking an eyebrow. 

Neville makes a gesture with his hands and sighs lightly. "Rubbing my neck is ... just something I do when I'm stressed or ... or agitated. I didn't realise I was doing it until you pointed it out."

Florence nods slowly as she takes this in, and then a small smile of empathy lifts the corners of her mouth. "Do you want to stop for the day? Come back tomorrow?" 

Neville shakes his head. "Oh, no. I'll be fine. As long as we're only on this boat for a little while, I'll be fine." 

"You're sure?"

Neville smiles and nods at her, but then his face drops when he notices the panic in Florence's eyes. He frowns and follows her gaze past his shoulder through the open door, to see that the beach shore is nothing but a speck in the distance. 

"Oh my god!" Neville shouts and jumps up, startling Florence. "How did - we're stranded at sea, Florence!" 

The DS stands up and gently grasps his forearms, stopping him from digging his hands in his hair in panic. "Sir!" she exclaims. "Sir, you need to calm down!" 

Neville's eyes are wide and the cogs in his mind are turning rapidly, but he knows she is right. He breathes deeply and pinches the bridge of his nose, and closes his eyes. "Alright," he sighs. "I'm fine. I'm calm. Look!" he says and holds his left hand out, but it starts shaking so he angrily snatches it back to his side.

Florence sighs and tilts her head at him; she strongly dislikes seeing him this fearful and panicked, but she knows that they must think logically if they're going to come up with a solution. 

_______________________________

In the while it took for Florence to calm Neville down, the boat drifted further out, surrounding it with nothing but more blue water and clear orange skies above the surface. There's no palm tree or sign of land in sight.

"You're not still afraid of the water, are you?" Florence asks, biting her lip and gazing out to sea, through the open door of the boat.

"Uh, no. Not since we went swimming the other month," he mumbles, head in hands. "But I know what you're thinking, Florence. And no - we can't swim back to shore. We don't know what direction goes where, now." 

Florence looks back at him as she registers the agitation to his tone. She thinks that it's perfectly reasonable given his claustrophobia. So she bends down in front of where he is sitting and places her hand to his knee. Neville uncovers his face and looks at Florence as she assures him that she will call the coastguard. She tells him not to worry as she stands up and retrieves her phone from the pocket of her shorts.

Neville sighs; he knows that it's easier said than done. But he appreciates having her here in this moment, and the thought of being here by himself makes him feel more nauseous than he already does.

He's forever going to blame himself for not double checking the security rope that already looked to be worse for wear. Of course it was only a short matter of time before it snapped and the boat drifted from the shore.

"The coastguard has been called out to an emergency, Sir," Florence says as she turns back around. "He says he won't be able to organise a rescue until tomorrow morning." 

Neville snaps his head up to her, eyes widening again and his heart beginning to race. "Oh no!" he panicks again, his worried eyes darting around the boat and taking in how close the walls are to him. 

"Sir," Florence says, sympathy and concern in every remnant of her voice. She walks over to him with determination in her eyes nevertheless and places her hands on his shoulders." _Sir_ , look at me. Close your eyes and count to ten. Slowly."

Neville breathes intermittently through his nose as the heat continues to rise in his head and his chest continues to constrict. He nods and closes his eyes, trying to channel calmness as quickly as he can. But the way the alarm insists on stealing the air from his lungs doesn't help the grounding. He feels out of control and overwhelmed to the point where he feels faint.

Until subconsciously, his arms lower and he finds his fingers curl around Florence's elbows. She continues to make slow circles on his shoulders. He counts to ten.

It all grounds him just enough to let the cloud of panic dissipate and he opens his eyes. However, fully aware that he will ascend into another panic attack if he looks at the small room he is in, Neville forces himself to only look at Florence.

Florence smiles weakly as Neville seems to calm a little. She notices the exhaustion that seems to have drained his face completely; his eyes are tired and he blinks slowly. She can still see the worry but she hopes that what she is about to reassure him with will lessen that.

"Sir, I know neither of us can drive this boat, and that it would be a _stupid_ idea to try. But the waters are calm tonight. They always are this time of year. The skies are clear, and it's only for one night, okay? You can do this."

Neville does not foresee what he does next; the overwhelming relief, gratitude and peace he finds in Florence's understanding and reassurances makes him step forward. His legs are still shaky and he still feels faint as the remnants of worry still linger in the back of his mind, but he does it all the same.

The descent into the hug is so slow and careful that Florence has time to steadily encircle her arms around his neck. She feels the desperation of the hug on Neville's part, as he wraps his arms around her small frame; she knows that he is still panicking a little, and she is more than happy to help him.

"Thank you, Florence," he whispers as his chin rests gently on her shoulder. He feels her smile in reply - he doesn't know how, but he does.

The hug breaks and Florence only had to sense his still trembling body for a moment before she takes his hand and tugs him to the door. Neville frowns but trusts her all the same, so he willingly follows close behind.

They walk out onto the steps, and then the thin white walkway ledge of the boat. The air is a godsend to Neville and he cools down in a manner of seconds. There's also an instant relief as he breaks out from the small room that had trapped him; the vastness of the outside is a haven that descends a blanketed peace down on him. 

Florence stops walking a few moments later and turns back to Neville. She smiles fondly when she sees the relief on his face, and the tears because of it that are in his eyes when he opens them.

Neville sighs a smile as he looks out to the sea. It's all around them and at first it had terrified him, the prospect of being stranded out here.

Nevertheless, if he is anywhere but inside the small boat that had seemed to enclose and terrify him even more, he will be nothing but reassured.

And if he is anywhere with Florence, he is at peace.

"Sit with me," Florence suggests as she dips her toes in the water.

Neville smiles and folds his lankly legs so he is sitting beside Florence. He takes his shoes and socks off and due to him being much taller than Florence, the water is up to his ankles. But he doesn't mind. It frees him.

It seems that Florence was right about the waters being calm. The sky proudly shines the moonlight down and the water welcomes it, reflecting its graciousness in its surface. The soft sounds of water lapping slowly gives Neville's agitated and tired mind rest at last. 

"Why didn't you tell me about your claustrophobia, Sir?" Florence asks him after an hour or so of tranquil silence. 

Neville swallows and then smiles at her sadly."I guess I thought that ... you would think less of me. I didn't want that."

"Sir, I could never think less of you," she tells him softly. "Having a phobia and being scared is nothing to be ashamed of."

Neville's fond smile only grows and he tears up a little as he looks at her. "Thank you, Florence."

She playfully nudges his shoulder, and for the next few hours they talk about constellations in the sky. They take turns to point up at the cascade of stars, laugh about the strange names of some of them. Florence happily listens to Neville as he passionately explains the history behind almost all of them.

_________________________________________________

It must be the early hours of the morning when Florence realises that Neville hasn't spoken in a while. She turns to find that he has already fallen asleep against the slanting white metal cabin. She shakes her head and laughs to herself, but considers how peaceful he looks in his sleep.

Florence, now registering the ache in her back due to sitting for so long, shuffles backwards and lays beside Neville. She turns around and nestles her back against him, resting her head on his outstretched arm.

An hour later, Florence feels tiredness wave over her and in the confusion of impending slumber, feels Neville's free arm encircle her waist, equally doused in sleep. 

The one thing Florence does recall, however, as she closes her eyes to the soft lapping of the waves, is that Neville's arm is not trembling anymore.


End file.
